GOR. Look there, and bid me fly!-The oak has The sable boar chain'd to the leafy oak, fall'n; And the young ivy bush, which learn'd to climb By its support, must needs partake its fall. VIP. Swinton? Alas! the best, the bravest, strongest, And sagest of our Scottish chivalry! My tongue should wrong the dead.—Gordon, bethink thee, Thou dost but stay to perish with the corpse' GOR. Ay, but he was my sire in chivalry. Records shall tell this field had not been lost, [Trumpets. Save thee, De Vipont.-Hark! the Southron trumpets. VIP. Nay, without thee, I stir not. Enter EDWARD, CHANDOS, PERCY, BALIOL, &c. Workman and tool, Plantagenet and Baliol.- [He rushes on the English, but is made K. ED. Disarm them-harm them not; though Sworn to my country ere I knew my Order. it was they Made havoc on the archers of our vanguard, GOR. Let it suffice, he was a man this morning.2 CHA. I question'd thee in sport. I do not need Thy information, youth. Who that has fought Through all these Scottish wars, but knows his crest, 1 MS." Thou hast small cause to tarry with the corpse." 2 In his narrative of events on the day after the battle of Sheriffmuir, Sir Walter Scott says, "Amongst the gentlemen who fell on this occasion, were several on both sides, alike eminent for birth and character. The body of the gallant young Earl of Strathmore was found on the field watched by a faithful old domestic, who, being asked the name of the person whose body he waited upon with so much care, made this striking reply, 'He was a man yesterday.'"-Tales of a Grandfather. MS.-"Stood arm'd beside my couch," &c. 4 "The character of Swinton is obviously a favorite with the author, to which circumstance we are probably indebted for the strong relief in which it is given, and the perfect verisim.litude which belongs to it. The stately commanding figure of the veteran warrior, whom, by the illusion of his art, the K. ED. I will but know thee as a Christian cham pion, And set thee free unransom'd. Enter ABBOT OF WALTHAMSTOW. K. ED. It is a day of much and high advan tage; Glorious it might have been, had all our foes author has placed in veritable presentment before us;—his ven erable age, superior prowess, and intuitive decision ;-the broils in which he had engaged, the misfortunes he had suffered, and the intrepid fortitude with which he sustained them,-together with that rigorous control of temper, not to be shaken even | by unmerited contumely and insult;-these qualities, grouped and embodied in one and the same character, render it moraEy im ossible that we should not at once sympathize and admre. The inherent force of his character is finely illustrated in the effect produced upon Lord Gordon by the first appearance of the man who had made him fatherless.'"'— Edinburgh | Magazine, July, 1822. 5 A Venetian General, observing his soldiers testified some unwillingness to fight against those of the Pope, whom they regarded as father of the Church, addressed them in terms of similar encouragement,-"Fight on! we were Venetians be fore we were Christians." Fought like these two brave champions.-Strike Till the Tweed's eddies whelm them. Berwick's the drums, Sound trumpets, and pursue the fugitives, 1"It is generally the case that much expectation ends in disappointment. The free delineation of character in some of the recent Scottish Novels, and the admirable conversations interspersed throughout them, raised hopes that, when a regular drama should be attempted by the person who was considered as their author, the success would be eminent. Its announcement, too, in a solemn and formal manner, did not diminish the interest of the public. The drama, however, which was expected, turns out to be in fact, and not only in name, merely a dramatic sketch, which is entirely deficient in plot, and contains but three characters, Swinton, Gordon, and Edward, in whom any interest is endeavored to be excited. With some exceptions, the dialogue also is flat and coarse; and for all these defects, one or two vigorous descriptions of battle scenes will scarcely make sufficient atonement, except in the eyes of very enthusiastic friends."-Monthly Review. "Halidon Hill, we understand, unlike the earlier poems of author, has not been received into the ranks of popular favor. Such rumors, of course, have no effect on our critical judgment; but we cannot forbear saying, that, thinking as we do very highly of the spirit and taste with which an interesting tale is here sketched in natural and energetic verse, we are yet far from feeling surprised that the approbation, which it is our pleasing duty to bestow, should not have been anticipated by the ordinary readers of the work before us. It bears, in truth, no great resemblance to the narrative poems from render'd These wars, I trust, will soon find lasting close.1 which Sir Walter Scott derived his first and high reputation, and by which, for the present, his genius must be characterized. It is wholly free from many of their most obvious faults -their carelessness, their irregularity, and their inequality both of conception and of execution; but it wants likewise no inconsiderable portion of their beauties-it has less pomp and circumstance,' less picturesque description, romantic association, and chivalrous glitter, less sentiment and reflection, less perhaps of all their striking charins, with the single exception of that one redeeming and sufficing quality, which forms, in our view, the highest recommendation of all the author's works of imagination, their unaffected and unflagging VIGOR. This perhaps, after all, is only saying that we have before us a dramatic poem, instead of a metrical tale of romance, and that the author has had too much taste and discretion to bedizen his scenes with inappropriate and encumbering orna ment. There is, however, a class of readers of poetry, and a pretty large class, too, who have no relish for a work, however naturally and strongly the characters and incidents may be conceived and sustained-however appropriate and manly may be the imagery and diction-from which they cannot select any isolated passages to store in their memories or their commonplace books, to whisper into a lady's ear, or transcribe into a lady's album. With this tea-table and watering-place school of critics, Halidon Hill' must expect no favor; it has no rant -no mysticism-and, worst offence of all, no affectation."British Critic, October, 1822. MacDuff's Cross. INTRODUCTION. THESE few scenes had the honor to be included in a Miscellany, published in the year 1823, by Mrs. Joanna Baillie, and are here reprinted, to unite them with the trifles of the same kind which owe their birth to the author. The singular history of the Cross and Law of Clan MacDuff is given, at length enough to satisfy the keenest antiquary, in | The Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border. It is here only necessary to state, that the Cross was a place of refuge to any person related to MacDuff, within the ninth degree, who, having committed homicide in sudden quarrel, should reach this place, prove his descent from the Thane of Fife, and pay a certain penalty. The shaft of the Cross was destroyed at the Reformation. The huge block of stone which served for its pedestal is still in existence near the town of Newburgh, on a kind of pass which commands the county of Fife to the southward, and to the north, the windings of the magnificent Tay and fertile country of Angus-shire. The Cross bore an inscription, which is transmitted to us in an unintelligible form by Sir Robert Sibbald. ABBOTSFORD, January, 1830. I mean that rough-hewn block of massive stone That shake, or rouse, or thrill the human heart, Shall move with step familiar to his eye, And accents which, once heard, the ear forgets nct Yet since thou wilt an idle tale of mine, Take one which scarcely is of worth enough To give or to withhold.-Our time creeps on, Fancy grows colder as the silvery hair Tells the advancing winter of our life. But if it be of worth enough to please, That worth it owes to her who set the task; If otherwise, the fault rests with the author. an antique Monument; and, at a small distance, on one side, a Chapel, with a Lamp burning. Enter, as having ascended the Pass, NINIAN and WALDHAVE, Monks of Lindores. NINIAN crosses himself, and seems to recite his devotions. WALDHAVE stands gazing on the prospect, as if in deep contemplation. NIN. Here stands the Cross, good brother, consecrated By the bold Thane unto his patron saint Or hath the steep ascent exhausted you? [some. WAL. I spoke not of the literal path, good father. NIN. 'Tis good morality.-But yet forget not, That though we look on heaven from this high eminence, Yet doth the Prince of all the airy space, From the bright heaven they aim at, even because NIN. (after a pause.) You do gazeStrangers are wont to do so-on the prospect. Yon is the Tay roll'd down from Highland hills, That rests his waves, after so rude a race, In the fair plains of Gowrie-further westward, Proud Stirling rises-yonder to the east, Dundee, the gift of God, and fair Montrose, And still more northward lie the ancient towersWAL. Of Edzell. NIN. How? know you the towers of Edzell? WAL. I've heard of them. NIN. Then have you heard a tale, Which when he tells, the peasant shakes his head, And shuns the mouldering and deserted walls. WAL. Why, and by whom, deserted? NIN. Long the tale,Fnough to say that the last Lord of Edzell, Bold Louis Lindesay, had a wife, and found WAL. Enough is said, indeed-since a weak woman, Ay, and a tempting fiend, lost Paradise, NIN. That then De Berkeley dealt the Baron's deathwound. Enough, that from that time De Berkeley bore He hath return'd of late; and, therefore, brother, What rights are these? NIN. Most true! you are but newly come fron. Rome, And do not know our ancient usages. Stooping the sceptre by the Thane restored, MacDuff's descendant leads the van in battle: WAL. And here a brother of your order watches To see the custom of the place observed? NIN. Even so;-such is our convent's holy right, Since Saint Magridius-blessed be his memory l— Did by a vision warn the Abbot Eadmir.— And chief we watch, when there is bickering Among the neighboring nobles, now most likely From this return of Berkeley from abroad, Having the Lindesay's blood upon his hand. WAL. The Lindesay, then, was loved among his friends? NIN. Honor'd and fear'd he was-but little loved; For even his bounty bore a show of sternness; And when his passions waked, he was a Sathan Of wrath and injury. WAL. How now, Sir Priest! (fiercely)—Forgive me (recollecting himself)—I was dreaming Of an old baron, who did bear about him NIN. Lindesay's name, my brother, I brought him a petition from our convent: He granted straight, but in such tone and manner, NIN. Even so; and I am near, should chance re- At midnight I relieve you on your watch, WAL. It is not with me, and alas! alas! Its humble pleasures and its paltry troubles, That every attitude is agony. How now! what brings him back? Re-enter NINIAN. Dashing upon the heron-Thou dost frown NIN. Yet look again; they quit their horses now, us. WAL. I'll not believe that ever the bold Thane Rear'd up his Cross to be a sanctuary To the base coward, who shunn'd an equal combat How's this?—that look-that mien-mine eyes grow dizzy!— NIN. He comes!-thou art a novice on this watch, Brother, I'll take the word and speak to him Have honor to maintain, and must not seem [WALDHAVE lets down his cowl, ang Enter MAURICE BERKELEY. NIN. Who art thou, stranger? speak thy name and purpose. BER. I claim the privilege of Clan MacDuff. NIN. Give us to know the cause of sanctuary! Enter LINDESAY, with his sword drawn. He rushen at BERKELET; NINIAN interposes, NIN. Peace, in the name of Saint Magridius! Peace, in our Prior's name, ard in the name NIN. Look to your watch, my brother; horse- Of that dear symbol, whien dia purchase peace men come: I heard their tread when kneeling in the chapel. And good-will towards man! I do command thee To lure the craven from the enchanted circle This is my brother's sword-the hand it arms NIN. See how they gallop down the opposing If thou hast heart to step a furlong off, And change three blows,—even for so short a spaco Yon gray steed bounding down the headlong path, As these good men may say an ave-marie,— As on the level meadow; while the black, So, Heaven be good to me! I will forgive thee |